


Pretentious Coffee

by E_Wills (orphan_account)



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter and sexy times, F/M, Sasscup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9834521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/E_Wills
Summary: Astrid hasn't quite recovered from her nasty breakup, though she'll deny it to anyone who asks. Ruffnut is determined to inject  some life and party into her roommate again, but Astrid can't seem to get a chance meeting with a certain lanky, sarcastic coffee barista off her mind.NSFW in later chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

Astrid’s head ached from the aftereffects of the previous night’s party. Between the deafening music, the pervasive smell of marijuana, beer, and vomit, and the morning’s brutal hangover, she vowed never to accompany her roommate to another “small get together” again. Ruffnut couldn’t be trusted. Astrid was unsure the other woman understood the concept of responsible entertainment. Like her twin brother, Ruffnut lived for the extreme, and Astrid had been collateral damage more than once.

Hence her current state.

It was almost noon and she was standing in line for overpriced coffee in a tiny corner shop she never visited. It was cramped, but quiet; unlike the student café on campus.

Astrid was not one for caffeine, but she needed a pick-me-up to salvage the remainder of her weekend for studying. Unfortunately, midterms would not pass themselves.

“Next,” the barista drawled.

Astrid glanced up, scanning overhead chalkboard menu framed by poorly drawn snowflakes—to complement the abysmal weather outside, she supposed. Her eyes darted around, but settled on nothing in particular.   


There were ten different kind of specialty coffees, an assortment of seasonal hot drinks, traditional coffee brews, and another half of the menu dedicated to frozen concoctions.   


Inexperienced in the ways of the java bean, Astrid found it all a bit overwhelming.

“You know, this would be a whole lot easier on the both of us if you had—I don’t know…bothered to glance at the menu when you were waiting in line, nothing to do.”

Astrid blinked, staring at the barista who was leaning on the counter, propped up by his elbows. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she was taken aback, torn between gaping at his rudeness and scowling. She imagined her face did some odd sort of spasm between the two while she fumbled a response.   


“I’ve never been in here before!” she blurted in her defense.

“Neither has that guy, but he ordered in two seconds,” the barista sighed, nodding toward the gentleman waiting for his drink in the pick-up area. “Blissfully uncomplicated.”

Astrid folded her arms, feeling herself bristle under the layers of winter clothing. “I don’t drink coffee.”

He laughed, straightening up. His name badge caught the light and her gaze flickered down to read HICCUP.

“Yet…you’re in a coffee shop?” he asked, his otherwise bored tone punctuated with burgeoning amusement.

Astrid rolled her eyes, dropping her arms to the side. “I didn’t mean I _never_ —“ She stopped abruptly, feeling her temper rise at the gap-tooth smirk across the counter. She tore off her gloves and stuffed them in her purse for something else to focus on. “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything, huh?” she sassed back.

“And this is the place you chose. Lucky me.”

She glared at him, leaning in. “Working _real_ hard for that tip, aren’t you?”

He genuinely grinned. “The whole twenty-five cents you weren’t going to pay me to begin with? I’m devastated.”

Astrid’s headache was getting worse she knew who to blame. She huffed, rubbing her forehead. Her eyes were scrunched closed, half with pain, and half with exasperation. If she wasn’t already miserable from excessive drinking, “Hiccup” would have made her so.

“Look,” she hissed. “I’ll take the…gingerbread latte, small. Can you put an extra shot of espresso in that?”  She shook her head as he opened his mouth to answer, disinterested in whatever snarky remark he had to share. “Oh, never mind. Just do it—and if it’s one of those girly coffees with whipped cream, you can just leave that off.”

Hiccup uncapped a sharpie and started scribbling on the side of an empty cup. “Extra-pretentious coffee with a generous dusting of privilege…”

“What?” she barked, wringing the strap of her purse like it was his neck.

If only.

Hiccup’s expression was neutral.   


“A small gingerbread latte with an extra shot, hold the whipped cream. Why? What did you hear?” He passed the empty cup to the other barista working the espresso machine. “That’ll be three-fifty.”

Astrid rummaged around for her wallet, pulling out a crinkled five dollar bill and shoving it into his hand rather forcefully. He made change, and there was something about his even visage that was as infuriating as his snarky quips. Without a single word, Astrid still felt like he was making a mockery of things—his job; the coffee he served; her.

She tucked the change away, fingers cramming it down bitterly, all save for one quarter to hold a quarter over the tip jar. When Hiccup’s eyebrows arched in surprise, she withdrew it in spite. He just laughed, much to her increasing annoyance.

Apparently, along with his lack of professionalism, he did not have the capacity to take things seriously—but it wasn’t Astrid’s problem that he didn’t want to be tipped. For some reason, it bothered her all the same.

Hiccup splayed a hand over his chest, ruefully eyeing the quarter. “You’re breaking my heart.”

She scoffed and marched toward the back of the shop near the coffee pick-up. There was a small table by the window where she could watch the cathartic dance of the snowfall outside. It was something to gaze at with unfocused eyes as she ran through her flash cards for political science.   


Of her upcoming exams, she feared that one the least, deciding it was the best content to review until her brain began firing on all cylinders again.

She shrugged off her jacket and her scarf, draping them over the back of the chair. She had been feeling heated, thinking it was her interaction with a certain intolerable barista, but as she sat down, she noticed just how warm the shop really was. With less layers, it was actually pleasant, and she pulled out ring of flash cards from her purse.

Not more than four cards in, her latte was delivered by a tall, gangling figure—fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it—and her mood soured, until she saw the water bottle set down alongside her drink.   


“For the hangover,” Hiccup explained, no attitude to spare. “Works better than espresso, anyway.”

Astrid stared up at him, puzzled.   


It was in the daylight filtering through the window that she finally saw him properly, and that face, so unassuming and unimpressed by everything around him, rang a bell. Something about those eyes and that irritating carelessness lit a match in her memory—but it was only a tiny flame, incapable of illuminating the bigger picture. She did not know when or where, but she was sure she had seen him before. It was dim inside that little coffee shop, but closer to the window, Hiccup had eyes that were not easily forgotten.

He quirked his brow again and only then did she realize she had been staring.

“What makes you think I have a hangover?” she asked, wishing she had not noticed the familiarity in his tone.   


Too suddenly, she was noticing other things—his jawline and stubble, and the flattering fit of his black work slacks. Objectively, he was easy on the eyes, and it was a great cosmic injustice that he did not have the corresponding personality.

“Maybe it’s the fact you’re in here studying in the middle of a Saturday, trudging through crappy weather, spending too much on coffee you never drink, and squinting excessively?” he replied. “Or maybe it’s just a barista’s intuition?”

Astrid snorted, but reached for the water. Her throat was becoming drier the longer he stood there.   


“Your intuition is shit because I’m _not_ squinting. I’m glaring, and you’re the reason.”

Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck, smirking. “Okay, Ms. Not-hungover. Consider it a midterm special—coffee and water.”

“And what do I owe you for this ‘midterm special?’”

With a straight face, he answered, “A quarter would suffice.”

Astrid sneered, reaching for her purse. “You’re such an idiot.”   


She produced the quarter, holding out to him with a flat stare.   


“Maybe I am, but I’m not the one hungover the weekend before midterms—ah! Excuse me. _Not-_ hungover,” he said, walking away with his hands up.

“Jackass,” she muttered, raising her latte to her lips. She yelped and nearly dropped the cup, fanning herself furiously as the drink scalded her.

“Beginner’s tip: Coffee is usually hot,” Hiccup called from behind the counter.

Astrid continued to glare at him, even after he had looked away. She still held him in her sights, even after her expression softened a bit.


	2. Chapter 2

Astrid tapped her mechanical pencil against her desk, rattling the lead. She knew how obnoxious the clicking must be—she had nearly throttled a girl for doing the same thing during the last course exam—but a day and a half’s cram session had her feeling anxious and unprepared. 

Upon reflection, she could not recall what had possessed her to go to that party with Ruffnut. It was so unlike her, the weekend before any kind of test. She was a much better student than she had been over the past week: sleeping in, procrastinating, and spending lectures ignoring the buzzing of her cell phone, seething over everything she imagined it would say. It was not her normal behavior, and it had nothing to do with her recent breakup…she told herself. 

There was no possible way _he_ could still get under her skin. She had excised him from her life, regardless if she was the one who had actually been dumped. If he didn’t want to be with her anymore, fine. No point in pining away or wallowing in self-pity. That kind of behavior was pathetic, and there was a perfectly logical explanation as to why her academic motivation had dwindled.

There had to be.

Burnout was perfectly normal…even if it was only halfway through sophomore year.

She stiffened as a stack of exam papers hit her desk, feeling the sickening twist of her stomach that was usually milder on test days. Her leg began to shake in addition to her clicking pencil, and she noticed the sidelong glance from the girl adjacent to her. 

Screw her.

Astrid took a deep breath.

The Scantron sheet was tucked inside a dense packet of questions, stapled together. There were seventy-five questions worth of political science theory, and she ran once more through the base philosophies of Plato, Aristotle, and Machiavelli, feeling marginally better she could remember those flash cards  verbatim.

She twisted in her seat to pass back the remaining tests. For no particular reason, other than curiosity maybe, she quickly scanned the room, wondering if anyone else shared her nerves—

There, two seats behind her to the right, was a tall, lanky face she had only _just_ committed to memory: the barista. There no mistaking him, even without his beige apron and black slacks. The dark green hoodie pulled over his head, framing that same bored, unimpressed face—not arrogant, just disinterested—only made him look more apathetic than he had been behind a cash register. It was as if all of it—school, his job, and surrounding peers—were inconsequential to him. It was as if none of it made any difference to him, and the mundane world of what was normal and expected was an inconvenience.

His eyes met hers and he smiled, bright and lopsided, like he was happy to see her, but still uncertain if she was worth reconnecting to the world.

“You may begin as soon as you get your test,” the professor announced pointedly.

Astrid tore her gaze away from that oddly engaging stare, turning back to her exam and finding the nuggets of political theory growing fuzzier in her brain. Bubbling her name into the appropriate field had become cumbersome. Her attention was suddenly divided between a GPA-determining test, and the utter shock that the skinny, snarky coffee barista had been in her class for half a semester without her noticing…

Yet, his face had been deemed worthy by her subconscious to file away so that bumping into him for the first time set off frantic bells to a tune she couldn’t quite name.

Well, now she knew.

The midterm exam seemed to simultaneously drag on and speed by in some bizarre time paradox. When her mind reluctantly wandered to freckles and sarcastic wit, it was like substantial blocks of time simply evaporated. Minutes of the clock were magicked away. It was disconcerting.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she flipped to the last page. A quick glance at the remaining time confirmed she hadn’t burned it all fixating on a guy she had no business thinking about, after a break up she definitely was _not_ still hurting over. She was glad to be unattached, frankly. It gave her the freedom to focus on what mattered—like the final three questions her pencil had been hovering over for a good few minutes

It was ridiculous. What was _wrong_ with her?

Movement caught her eye, and she hazarded a glance at the back of that green hoodie striding to the podium. His bag was hanging off one shoulder in a manner as careless as the rest of him. The professor glanced over his Scantron to make sure it was properly filled out, nodded, and the barista was gone—off somewhere, to whatever gave him purpose.

Astrid snapped back to her own test, breezing through the last three questions with more urgency than she had felt since she started—perhaps more than was prudent. She nearly sprinted up to the front, holding her test out with one hand, purse and coat clutched in the other. She was already on her way out the door before the professor gave her answer sheet an approving nod.

It was baffling, even to herself, why she felt compelled to chase down this relative stranger who was nothing to her, if not irritating. Hiccup was his name, she remembered, and he had served her bland, over-priced coffee with complimentary sass. Jerk. He was some quiet, distracted soul who sat behind her in her political science course. They had no connection, no real conversational starting point other than, “Hey, remember when you were a total dick to me the other day?”

Maybe she wanted an apology? Maybe she was finally alert enough to give him a piece of her mind?

Or maybe, after years of the same old thing—muscles and swagger—she was intrigued by something different. It was not a willful attraction, if “attraction” was even the correct word. It was more a draw; a gravity. It was something that had her rushing out into the snow, squinting against the blinding white expanse. It was the exchange of wit and a volley of quips that had sharpened her edges after years of dulling.

But Hiccup was gone, disappeared into the flurries like a winter phantom. She would not see him again until the next political science class the end of the week.

Or maybe she could again pay a little too much for unsavory coffee and attitude?


	3. Chapter 3

Astrid was sprawled out on the living room futon, brow furrowed at the ceiling. Midterms were over and she had survived them somehow; there had been no explosions; lightning hadn’t struck her; she had not fallen off the face of the Earth and floated into some abyss of academic Hell. Saturday had arrived with its merciful respite. Pajamas and hot cocoa would sustain her now, not anxiety, sleep deprivation, and flash cards. 

Her plan for the day involved slowly fusing to the cushions and her greatest concern was whether or not she’d take shower. Maybe, if feeling especially daring, she would forego leftovers and order a pizza later—that was living on the edge the weekend after exams.

Her phone buzzed. She knew who it was, but she ignored him as she had done for the past two weeks.  She was amassing a library of text messages she wouldn’t read.  There was nothing that could be said to smooth things over; no salve for the burn of a nasty breakup. She did not want to think or feel. She wanted to reboot her brain with twenty-four hours of thoughtlessness.

She sighed, absently butting her heel again the armrest as Ruffnut emerged from her bedroom, hair in a tangled mass of blonde and glitter. From where Astrid lie, she could smell the booze and a hint of stale cigarette smoke emanating from her roommate’s clothing—the same outfit she had left the dorm in. The same outfit she had, apparently, fallen asleep in.

“When did you get in?” Astrid asked, wrinkling her nose.

Ruffnut shuffled to the fridge, squinting into the light as she opened the door.

“Dunno. After two, I think,” she grunted, grabbing the milk carton. She unscrewed the cap and start chugging.

Astrid rolled her eyes and sat up. “I still don’t understand how that’s fun.”

“You’re such a square. All you do is study, workout, and sulk over what’s-his-face,” Ruffnut retorted. She wiped her mouth on her arm and glimpsed Astrid over. “I think this state,” she gestured to Astrid’s lounging, “is an improvement for you.”

“I don’t sulk,” Astrid muttered, rounding her shoulders. She gazed out the window at the snowfall because her eyes were more honest than her mouth.

Ruffnut snorted. “You glare at your phone every time it chimes, like it’s his dumb voice.”

Astrid huffed but said nothing, glaring down at the phone in her hand like it had agreed with the other blonde, betraying that owner-device confidentiality. Part of her passionate temper was the tendency to be obvious even when she tried not to be. “Fine” was never _fine_. “I’m not upset” was often code for “just about ready to throttle someone”. Everyone close to her knew it, so only her complex, innermost thoughts were truly hers.

“He won’t stop texting me,” she admitted. “I haven’t responded. I want to change my number.”

“You won’t though,” Ruffnut said, grabbing a banana. “Like him, you can’t stand to leave things unfinished.”

“When did _you_ get so insightful?”

Ruffnut took a bite of the banana, talking around the mouthful as she chewed.

“We’ve been friends since the tenth grade, Astrid. You’ve been with the same guy the entire time, so I learned a few things. You guys were never gonna work. Too similar. Really, it was like you were dating yourself, but with a penis.”

“You believe that ‘opposites attract’ nonsense, then?”

“I believe you shouldn’t be dating yourself—even if he is attractive,” Ruffnut answered, in another stroke of her unorthodox, unintentional wisdom, “ _even_ if he has aforementioned penis, which I’m assuming is as impressive as the rest of him.”

“Okay, fine. If you’re so knowledgeable, why are _you_ still single?” Astrid retorted, folding her arms.

The other blonde laughed. “ _Because_ I’m knowledgeable.” She shoved the rest of her banana in her mouth and chewed it quickly, swallowing the mash. “But you like the punishment of monogamy and commitment.” Ruffnut contorted her face in disgust. “So, I’m going to help you out and give you some advice.”

“Oh, I can hardly wait,” Astrid droned. “Please, open my eyes to the world of binge drinking, blackouts, and puking in strange toilets.”

“Come out with me.”

“Noooo—“

“ _Come out with me_ ,” Ruffnut insisted. She plopped down beside Astrid on the futon, overwhelming her with the stench of sweat and alcohol. “Tuff and his housemates are having a party tonight. Get tipsy—not drunk—enough to give zero shits about anything. Fuck a few random guys until you forget Mr. Tall, dark, and douchey. Then, start over from ground zero.”

Astrid inched away from her, eyeing her skeptically. “Ground zero…of public drunkenness and casual sex?”

Ruffnut nodded and stared her down with bloodshot puppy eyes. Everything in Astrid’s rational brain told her that her roommate’s idea of a fun party would not end well—it would probably end in another hangover that even coffee, water, and a lanky, sarcastic barista couldn’t fix. So much for useful advice. Hard partying wouldn’t solve her problem, only smother it under a bunch of potential new ones whose names she might not recall in the morning. She didn’t need cheap beer to get over her ex. She certainly didn’t need a superficial list of conquests to feel empowered.

But blaring music and the anonymity of a cramped house full of strangers had _some_ appeal: she could fade into the corner with her drink—one drink—and it could be a needed change of scenery. It certainly beat lying around pretending she wasn’t thinking about unread texts and seething over things she couldn’t change, and words that had been left too long unspoken. 

If nothing else, Astrid could at least do Ruffnut a solid and make sure her roommate got home safely, with all of the articles of clothing she had left the dorm with. 

Astrid didn’t want to cut loose like the weekend before. That had not had the most favorable outcome, but perhaps there was some merit to stepping out of her comfort zone? All she had known for the past four and a half years was to keep on the straight and narrow. Wasn’t college about reinventing oneself and trying new things? Maybe undergrad Astrid _was_ a bit square? Maybe that had contributed to the dissolution of her relationship? 

Maybe undergrad Astrid actually liked parties—if she could ever allow herself to like them…

“Fine,” she relented. Ruffnut squealed and clapped. “I’ll come with you tonight. I won’t get drunk though—someone needs to drive us back here. I refuse to stay the night in some strange place with strange guys.”

“Okaaaay!” The other blonde sang, skipping towards the bathroom to shower, or so Astrid hoped; Ruffnut desperately needed one.

As the door shut, Astrid called out, _“But I’m definitely not sleeping with anyone!_ ”


	4. Chapter 4

Astrid’s feet were cold,  her boots soaked through with snow. Her body was numb as well beneath thick layers, but for an entirely different reason than the weather. She had gone against her better judgment by deciding to tag along with Ruffnut to her brother’s party, but she took a chance that she might actually enjoy herself. 

The severity of her mistake became clear within the first ten minutes. 

She had only _just_ gotten a beer for herself, joining Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and the other party-goers gathered around the fire pit blazing in the tiny backyard. No one else arrived at firs,t and she had begun to feel foolishly optimistic that it would remain a smaller, more relaxed affair—much more her speed. 

Then a SUV pulled up, and a half-dozen people spilled out of it, followed by two more sedans. She recognized one, but dismissed it as a common make and model to soothe the anxious twist of her stomach. 

But, the door opened, and a tall, muscular figure she knew all too well emerged with an infuriating swagger. From the passenger side, he was joined by a pretty girl with long, black hair pulled into a loose plait—much like Astrid wore hers, insultingly enough.

The very person she left her dorm to forget was strolling up to the fire with his new lover on his arm—the girl that had ended everything. The one he had cheated on Astrid with, only to finally leave her for.

“I didn’t know he would be here,” Ruffnut whispered urgently. “Shit. We can go.”

Astrid shook her head, eyes narrowing as the crunching of snow beneath the crowd of boots grew louder. Tuffnut and his friends called out to the newcomers, and they hollered back. It was then Astrid’s eyes met her ex’s, and she took small satisfaction in the hesitancy of his next few steps. 

So, he was still feeling guilty? Good.

More bottlecaps popped and the huddle around the crackling fire grew tighter. Astrid was closer to the source of her frustration than she had been in over a month. She could feel his eyes on her, wanting her attention—he had  always wanted her attention, never content to let her pursue her own interests outside of himself and school. He was not controlling, but…persistent? 

That had been fine in high school when prepping for college was all that mattered, and he had been a pleasant way to unwind from sports and homework. They were always together when their schedules had allowed it, pouring their energy into being the power couple—alphas in the adolescent pecking order. 

University was a different world, though. New opportunities and a fresh start called to Astrid, and she had started to drift from him, only a little, as she branched out toward new interests. She thought it was a good thing—a way to grow and have more to share to enrich her relationship.

She quickly learned, however, that things became a competition. Who was having more fun? Who was faring better in their courses? Whose accomplishments were more brag-worthy, and who was better taking advantage of their independence?

Astrid quickly grew weary of it. She had no interest in competing against her boyfriend, simply because he felt he had no one else to compete with. She understood his drive and his confidence. She shared those same traits to an extent, and that was what first attracted her to Eret. There was no thinking involved. It had been easy. They were one and the same.

But when she deliberately put more distance between them, coming up with excuses and activities to fill her schedule, he responded in kind—a sort of “two can play at this game”, she figured. They saw each other the weekends, and still went out on dates. Things weren’t great, but they were okay in her mind. They were holding it together and still having fun, though the emotional adhesive in their relationship had grown more brittle than she had realized…

Eret had likely already been seeing his new girl on the side, but Astrid had been clueless for a time.

She eventually decided they were something worth saving and had shown up at his apartment unannounced. She had only wanted to talk, to regain some of the spark they had lost…and that was how she had found out about the ither woman. Halfhearted excuses chased her all the way to her car as Eret stumbled after her, trying to fix his pants. 

There was no official declaration to end things. There was no need for it. The tears that had blurred her vision then were more from the sting of wounded pride than true heartache. 

Even as Astrid stood beside Ruffnut in the snow, determinedly avoiding eye contact with Eret, it was her wounded pride that was still hardest to tolerate. Thoughts of him plagued her, not because she wanted him back, but because he had made a fool of her. There was no closure, because she would not speak to him or give him the satisfaction of apologizing. He wouldn’t get to have the last word. She kept him on a hook because he deserved to sweat. 

He deserved to be made uncomfortable by the mere sight of her, and so things went unresolved. Her pride, still raw.

“I’m going inside,” she told Ruffnut. “It’s too cold out here, suddenly.”

She didn’t wait for a response, marching toward the backdoor with purpose. The chatter faded as soon as the door shut behind her, replaced by the latest hit music and quieter, more intimate conversations between the few, less social individuals hiding from the elements. 

There were cheesy Christmas lights strung up in the kitchen, extending through the open floor plan. The most pathetic fake tree was tucked in the corner, decorated with cleavage ornaments and small, plastic pin-up girls. Instead of a star, it was topped with a glittering marijuana leaf.

Astrid rolled her eyes.

She set her beer down on the kitchen counter and shrugged off her coat. There was a pile of hats, scarves, and winter jackets draped over the sofa closest to the front door, and she added to it.

No one cared that she was there, wrapped up in their own conversations. It was nice—what she had originally expected. She did, however, stand out like a sore thumb, hovering by the door alone. Awkward In social gatherings, she was usually among friends or with her boyfriend, bolstering _his_ image. To be a wallflower was entirely new.

She made her way back to the kitchen and her beer, noting the hints of Tuffnut and Snotlout in every immature, novelty Christmas decoration, and the swimsuit model calendar tacked to the side of the refrigerator. She envied the other people sitting around and chatting away about anything and everything, sharing their revolutionary ideas that would surely change the world…in their minds.

Astrid never had much practice with philosophical conversation outside the classroom. She fancied herself much more pragmatic. 

“Are you stalking me now?”

The simple question cut through her reverie.

She jumped and nearly dropped her beer on the faded linoleum. From the corner of her eye, a tall, slim figure sauntered out from the hall to her left. She was gobsmacked, blatantly gaping. Her shame was in pieces on the floor, like her bottle had nearly been, as her mouth hung open.

“What are _you_ doing here?” she blurted out.

Hiccup, the coffee barista, shuffled around her to get to the refrigerator. He was nonchalant in his T-shirt and sweatpants, like there _wasn’t_ a party going on around him, and they often did the very same awkward dance in cramped spaces.

“I, uh…live here?” he replied, pulling out his own beer. “I didn’t realize that was such an offense.” Astrid continued to stare at him and he leaned back against the adjacent counter, drumming the fingers of his freehand. “I’m beginning to think everything I do offends you, actually.”

“What? I—no. _No_ , it doesn’t,” Astrid answered hotly. “I would just like to enjoy myself without any aggravations, for once.”

He popped off his bottle cap. “I’ve been called many things. ‘Aggravation’ is new.”

Astrid scrunched her eyes closed and took a deep breath. When she gazed at him again, she hoped it would be with less obvious annoyance. 

Admittedly, she had been thinking about him too much, pondering his sarcastic wit and why it lingered in her consciousness.

“I didn’t mean _you’re_ an aggravation, specifically,” she amended. “I’m just not in the mood to listen to—.”

“Nice backpedaling. Why say it, then? Exercising that baccalaureate vocabulary?”

Her face fell. “Because you seem to lack a basic conversational filter. Or charm. I haven’t figured out which.”

He shrugged. “Well, if pedestrian talk of First World problems is more your thing—“

“Then I would’ve taken a sociology course,” she scoffed.

They made eye contact over the lip of their respective bottles and he grinned.

Astrid felt a strange prickling beneath her skin—butterflies made of fire that she hadn’t felt in quite a while. 

His sass should’ve turned her off. If he was anyone else, she’d have walked away and never looked back. But, their banter held the dim embers of excitement. Each exchange was giving oxygen to the burgeoning heat that she had once felt for Eret—and yet whatever drew her to Hiccup felt entirely novel. She wasn’t even sure it had a name. 

“Attraction” seemed too juvenile, but “lust” also missed the mark. It had nothing to do with the physical essence of him. Too many years, she had been with the male reflection of herself. Hiccup was something different—a challenge to her concept of what was normal and desirable. He was intriguing—a hypnotic fascination that drew her closer to some kind of rabbit hole. If she fell, she didn’t know where she would end up, but it would certainly be somewhere much further than where she had already been.

After all, wasn’t college about branching out and trying new things?

She took a large swig of beer, her rational brain screeching for attention.

What was _wrong_ with her? 

She wasn’t the kind of person who looked for a rebound lay—but then again, she had never _been_ on the rebound. 

Still, she was a stranger unto herself, sizing up this young man she hardly knew, and frighteningly, he was hitting all the marks on some mysterious list tucked behind the most desirable traits she had first dreamed up when she was twelve.

“I see you’re hard at work on ‘not being hungover’,” Hiccup teased, nodding to the drink in her hand.

Astrid smirked. “Indeed. This is my one and only tonight.”

He quirked an eyebrow and chuckled. “Color me impressed. A true achievement.”

They shared a genuine smile and Astrid felt her numb body warming down to her toes—until the backdoor opened. Several party-goers filed in to escape the cold, including Tuffnut, Snotlout, some of their friends, and Eret, with his girlfriend. 

Astrid felt as though she had been thrown back out into the snow. 

She nearly dropped her drink a second time when Hiccup said, “Hello, Eret.”

Eret nodded and his girlfriend shifted her weight uncomfortably beside him, glancing back toward the door.

“You _know_ each other?” Astrid hissed, eyes darting back and forth between her past headache and her future gamble.

“Sure,” Hiccup replied flatly, not bothering to lower his voice. “I know he’s in the business of stealing people’s girlfriends.” He raised his bottle and Eret’s jaw clenched. “And business is good, isn’t it, Heather?”

The girl on Eret’s arm looked away with a scowl, and Astrid felt like she had been catapulted into an afternoon soap opera.


	5. Chapter 5

In reality, Astrid knew very little about Hiccup. She didn’t know his last name, where he was from, how old he was, nor something as mundane as his favorite color. He was a stranger, and Astrid had a natural disinclination toward the different and unfamiliar. Her life had always been perfectionism, tradition, and obtainable expectations. 

In the wake of her breakup, it became distressingly clear how little joy all of that brought her.

Hiccup represented change. He was a departure from her structured life of top grades and—until just recently—a steady, stagnant relationship. The only competition between the two of them was the clashing of wit, opposed to a passive-aggressive battle for innate superiority.

Other than that, Hiccup was a complete mystery to be unraveled—a thick novel with an exciting back cover summary. He was a distraction from her misery, until two-timing ex-lovers united them by a common pile of absolute crap.

She hated Eret even more for it—for reaching into the private daydream she had set aside for herself, tainting it.

“This isn’t how I imagined this would go,” Eret said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Astrid shared the sentiment. She thought the next time she spoke to him would be one-on-one, where she could tear him apart and say every insult that flew into her brain. Likely, it would have escalated to a shouting match, but that would have been enough to give her closure and end things on mutual loathing; her pride would be bandaged with contempt.

“Why is this so strange? Is this too straight-forward and decent for you?” Hiccup asked, and Astrid found herself inching closer to him.

It was becoming the guilty lovers versus the jilted in an unexpected twist.

“Look, Hiccup,” Eret sighed, “it was never about you. Or Astrid. What happened between Heather and I—it wasn’t intentional.”

“Neither is, say…vehicular manslaughter, but that doesn’t make it okay, does it?”

Astrid nearly choked on a mouthful of beer. She turned away quickly to cough and stifle a rather poorly timed laugh. Hiccup caught her eye and there was the hint of a smirk on his face. She flashed him a smile Eret couldn’t see. 

It was something private and encouraging—a little slice of the protected retreat Hiccup represented.

“It’s not like this came out of nowhere,” Heather finally spoke up. 

“Right. You asked for space and I gave it to you. How thoughtless of me,” Hiccup muttered, taking a long sip of beer. “Or was I supposed to inherently know that ‘I need some space’ actually meant you wanted to be pursued?”

“Headgames, huh? Well, you know all about those, don’t you?” Astrid asked, rounding on Eret.

“So, you didn’t even bother to read my texts,” he accused.

“Would they have contained some new revelation?”

Eret fell quiet, brow furrowing into a solid line. Astrid stared back at him unwavering. 

There they were, mirror images. Both too much alike to back down. Cut from the same cloth, they were both too headstrong to last. Neither one wanted to lose—to be the one left limping way from their failed relationship with their proverbial tail between their legs.

“Let’s go,” Heather murmured, gently tugging on his arm. “I like the fire pit better, anyway.”

Eret shot Astrid one last lingering glance meant to wither her, but she did not balk. They were both proud, and so things remained unsettled still. There was more that needed to be said before their relationship could be declared legally deceased. Astrid had a whole glossary of creative insults and curse words she had yet to throw in his face and it would be such a shame if it were to go unheard.

Eret and Heather slipped back outside leaving Hiccup and Astrid in a resounding silence that the even stereo’s bass beats couldn’t penetrate.

It was only them in the tiny space, with their beer and regrets. They wouldn’t look at each other, though their history and embarrassment had become inextricably linked.

“So, that was awkward,” Hiccup commented, pointing out the obvious in mockery of it. 

Astrid could appreciate his attempt to lighten the mood.

“Heather is— _was_ your…?”

“Yeah. I didn’t realize Eret screwed somebody over as well. He seems like a decent guy…except for the whole, y’know, sleeping with other people’s girlfriends thing.”

Astrid nodded. She rotated her bottle in her hands, admiring the label.

“Looks like you and I are connected,” she said.

Hiccup smiled wryly. “By heartache and bad coffee.”

“Passable coffee,” Astrid amended.

Hiccup laughed and it warmed Astrid’s toes again. She couldn’t help noticing the way his green eyes lit up like the absurd marijuana leaf atop the Christmas tree, and the way his freckles consolidated as his face contorted with mirth. She smirked, hiding it in her drink as she considered him through her lashes. 

In light of their similar circumstances, she found him more appealing. True, he was no longer separate from her problems with Eret, but Hiccup understood where she was at. He could relate, and he was still so intriguing in addition to it all.

He replied, “I’m afraid you don’t know what constitutes decent coffee.”

Astrid had to give him that. “No. I don’t.”

Another silence settled between them, but it was far less heavy.

“Are you leaving, then?” Hiccup asked.

Astrid cocked her head to the side and wondered if his incessant talking was a compulsion.

“To put some distance between the two of you,” he gestured vaguely toward the backdoor, and Astrid understood to whom he referred.

“No. I’m not running away this time,” she huffed. “He can stand out there and stew in it for all I care. Best thing I can do is enjoy myself.”

“Mmm, because you were just so successful at that before I waltzed over here.”

Astrid rolled her eyes and reached out to swat him in the shoulder. He flinched, but chuckled.

“Fine. Parties aren’t really my thing,” she admitted, “but I don’t want him to gloat, thinking he ran me off.”

Hiccup’s grin broadened, and though his sarcastic quips tested her claims and her patience, there was no judgment in them. He was enjoying himself, engaging her on intellect, drawn in by her brain.

“Yes,” he sad. “Staying at a party you hate just to rub it in Eret’s face isn’t vindictive at all.”

She found their mental exercise equally stimulating. Never before had someone shown such fascination in her wit, provoking her purely for the fun of the banter. 

She fired back, “You’d rather I leave then?”

His expression changed from cocky to startled. “No, no! No, I…I was just saying…”

But what he was supposedly ‘just saying’ was never defined. He gazed out of the kitchen window, sipping his beer with a red tint to his ears that could not be attributed to an overhead string of Christmas lights. 

In their seemingly endless volley, Astrid had just scored a point.

She was smug, catching a glimpse of the first page of him, beneath his glossy cover with its snarky taglines. 

“Anyway, this party hasn’t been _all_ bad. Besides Ruffnut, though, I don’t really know anyone else here,” she told him, sizing him up as he stared elsewhere. 

Those fitted black slacks were seared into her memory, even as she admired his loose, low-riding sweatpants. Heather was decidedly a fool.

Astrid’s eyes snapped back to his as he turned toward her again.

“You know me,” he replied.

She rolled her eyes. “You served me coffee and attitude once.”

“Well, I—“

“You implied I was privileged, too.”

She delighted in the way he grew flustered—the most un-composed she had seen him. She was slowly peeling back the layers of him, and each one was more endearing than the last, which wasn’t difficult when his outermost façade was one of an almost cynical apathy. There was an appeal to the two sides of him—the newer, more vulnerable side, and the persona he projected to give the impression Heather hadn’t crushed him. 

Astrid could relate.

“A-haha,” he laughed dryly. “Uh, yeah. My humor can…sometimes leave much to be desired.” His eyes flickered pointedly to the back door. “Or so I’ve been told.”

Astrid scoffed. “Who cares what she thinks anymore?”

Hiccup quirked an eyebrow. “You seem awfully concerned with what Eret thinks.”

Astrid opened her mouth to refute him, but immediately snapped it closed. Any excuse would be a lie and he was far too clever to buy it. Flirting or teasing, whichever was more accurate, there was an honesty in their exchanges that she hadn’t enjoyed with anyone else.

Sarcastic, though he may be, Hiccup didn’t mislead. He hadn’t said anything meant to misrepresent himself; no bragging, no self-adulation. He didn’t try to woo her with flattery. There was not a single incidence she could recall where he had tried to impress her. Since he had first sassed her in that coffee shop, Astrid had the impression Hiccup was being nothing but honest in the parts of himself he had chosen to show her. It was masking an internal turmoil much like her own, but it was very much real to who he was. 

She owed him nothing less in return.

“An old habit dies hard,” she retorted. “Although, I would say it’s less caring about what he thinks, and more trying to stay one step ahead of pettiness.”

“A strategy I can appreciate.” He tilted his drink forward and they clinked bottlenecks together.

Hiccup swallowed the last of his beer and strode to the recycle bin to toss the empty glass. Astrid couldn’t help watching him move. He was lanky, but with some detectable definition beneath his shirt. 

She finished off the rest of her beer, feeling her pulse quicken before her brain could even catch up. But she knew—adding her bottle to the bin and brushing past him—that the gathering electricity in the air was a premonition of things that _might_ be. She was standing on a precipice with him, but whether he be just polite or obtuse, Hiccup was not straightforward. _She_ was going to have to decide the turn of events, should he be so inclined…

He was not an alpha male—everything Astrid had previously believed she wanted. That old checklist was quickly fading like a piece of notebook paper left out in the rain.

It was not like her to pursue—to have to ask. It was intimidating to make herself open to rejection. That was not the norm in a predictable relationship that unfolded exactly how one would expect. Nothing about her interactions with Hiccup followed any of the rules or standards she otherwise lived and dated by. 

But she needed that; she needed something extraordinary to propel her forward to explore the potentials of dating, of adulthood, and a liberated sexuality. 

Hiccup was that kind of extraordinary. He wasn’t a guaranteed solution to her problems, but he would certainly unlock what came next, pulling her spinning wheels out of the mud. 

It _was_ intimidating, but also empowering. With him, she could take a chance.

“Well, I’m not going back out there, and you’re the only person worth talking to in here,” Astrid sighed, folding her arms across her chest. 

She could feel her own heart racing like she had just ran a mile.

Hiccup smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment rather than a lack of options.”

“Is there someplace more private we could move…this?” Astrid gestured between them, trying not to be too implicit.

It was all still open-ended. Hiccup had given her no indication either way. 

Perhaps she was being unreasonable? Perhaps he wasn’t attracted to her in that sense? Perhaps she was reading too much into whatever chemistry she thought they had?

And for that reason, she wanted nothing explicitly stated, in part so she couldn’t be rejected.

Hiccup’s face did something peculiar, running through a range of emotions from taken aback, to curious, to contemplative. Nothing negative passed over his features. His shoulders slackened, head tilted to the side, trying to decode the riddle of her request.

“Sure,” he said, leaving the kitchen abruptly, and Astrid assumed she was meant to follow.

As she trailed him through the narrow hallway, she felt like molten lead was being pumped into her legs. 

They were headed for his bedroom. 

Her entire body felt hot with anxiety, excitement, and a knees-wobbling anticipation. She tried to remind herself a simple invitation to his bedroom did not necessarily mean anything—it was a small house where the only other private space was the bathroom, currently occupied by someone puking. 

Still, she hoped it was a short hallway or Hiccup might turn to find her collapsed in the middle of it.

They took a sharp right leading to a single door that he held open for her.

“After you,” he said, and Astrid smiled, hoping her nerves didn’t twist it into something unhinged.

She stepped over the threshold, committed to chase Hiccup as far as she could down the rabbit hole.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing Astrid noticed was how clean and organized Hiccup’s bedroom was compared to the rest of the house. His carpet was spotless, unlike the living room and hallway floors sporting questionable stains. The second thing she noticed was Hiccup shutting the door behind him, muffling the party until the blood pounding in Astrid’s ears easily drowned out the rhythmic bass beats. 

She was anxious, but she wanted it—to be alone in that room with a guy she hardly knew, open to just about anything that transpired between them. One bottle of beer was not enough to obscure her judgment and completely level her inhibitions. It was _her_ decision alone to take the risk, not the alcohol. 

She was not acting like her usual self, but her usual self had not done her too many favors. Life as expected had left her bored, miserable, and stewing over years wasted. 

Wasted in what? 

She had been certain once, but she didn’t know anymore. 

The only clear thing was Hiccup, crossing the room in those sweatpants, like he paraded around that way in front of strange girls on the regular.

He pulled out his desk chair. “I hope you like dogs,” he stated in a manner that more implied she _had better_ like dogs.

Astrid furrowed her brow, confused. “I—yeah. I mean, sure. I like them. Why?”

No sooner had the question fallen from her lips when something stirred on the bed, and she nearly yelped, taking a step back. Her nerves had made her initially blind to the large, black German shepherd curled up on the dark comforter. 

The dog raised his head, seeming to eye her with equal wariness. In his stare was something wild and intelligent, reminiscent of his untamed ancestors.

“Allow me to introduce you to Toothless,” Hiccup said, his voice saturated with fondness. “It’s usually just him and me around here. Tuffnut’s often sequestered in his room, doing God knows what, and Snotlout is hardly ever home unless there’s a party. I would guess he was studying on campus if I didn’t already know he hasn’t got two brain cells to rub together.”

Astrid nodded distractedly, eyes locked on Toothless and the way he sniffed at the air, like he could smell her trepidation.

“It’s okay. He won’t bite you,” Hiccup said, joining his dog on the bed. He scratched Toothless behind the ear and added, “Unless you give him a reason.”

“I can’t imagine I would,” she replied. 

“He, uh, well…he never liked Heather much.”

Astrid grinned. “Smart boy.”

Hiccup chuckled and gazed up at her expectantly, making her bristle.

Was it some kind of test? A screening process, perhaps? Did she really have to appease his _dog_ before he would get any closer to her?

She stared down at the inquisitive animal, hoping that Hiccup was not the kind of owner who was in denial of his own pet’s temperament. Too many people got injured that way.

Toothless’s ears were perked up, and his muzzle was smooth and relaxed, not wrinkled back to bare what was surely an impressive set of fangs. Knowing the tiny bit about Hiccup that she did, the name “Toothless” was likely in jest.

It was very fitting.

Astrid took a deep, inaudible breath and held out her hand, praying that if the dog took a snap at her, he’d at least leave her with a few fingers intact. Thankfully, she did not tremble, betraying her fear. It would have been a blow to her dignity—a side of her she was not ready for Hiccup to see. 

She needed to come across as confident and collected, to project a “don’t screw with me attitude” that would ensure Hiccup didn’t knowingly, or unknowingly, take advantage of her recent vulnerabilities. She was treading in new waters, far out of her comfort zone. It was exhilarating, but she didn’t want to get swept away in the undertow—that  heady rush of the new and drastically different. She was still Astrid Hofferson, and her knees buckled for no one. She swooned for no one. She was not the type to be seduced, and in all honesty, there was nothing about Hiccup that could be described as particularly sexual. 

The way he carried himself was less flirtatious womanizer and more unassuming, highly intellectual introvert. His physique didn’t turn heads. That voice wouldn’t make girls shudder with desire. In all likelihood, his demeanor would sooner earn him a slap in the face than a phone number.

And yet, after being stuck in dead end relationship with the kind of jock every girl seemed to chase, Astrid wanted Hiccup’s unique appeal for reasons that didn’t entirely make sense, beyond the fact he seemed to fit perfectly into a void that needed filling. It didn’t matter, though. She had thought too hard about relationships for too long, and she was prepared to fall into his gravity.

Consequences could be dealt with later.

Astrid pursed her lips, feeling awkward with her hand outstretched for a non-compliant dog. “Is he just going to stare at me, or…?”

Toothless was undoubtedly powerful, with substantial bulk beneath his glossy coat, and he seemed happy to make her squirm, taking a brief eternity to consider her. 

Finally, a large, wet tongue graced her hand from palm to fingertip. Both she and Hiccup smiled when the Toothless nudged her. Whatever reservations she had toward the dog melted.

“Oh, Toothless, you’re not so bad, huh?” She sat on the other side of him, scratching at his thick neck with both hands. “You’re not so bad!”

It registered with a sudden jolt to the gut that she was on Hiccup’s bed. There was an inherent suggestiveness to it, regardless of what unfolded. Or didn’t.

Toothless rolled onto his side, shamelessly drawing up his leg to better expose his chest. His tail thumped against the bedding. 

Hiccup seemed satisfied, even a little relieved. Astrid was optimistic she had just earned his favor. After all, Toothless had not been so welcoming to his owner’s previous girlfriend. She already had a leg up on Heather.

“Well, that settles it,” Hiccup said, leaning back on his hands. He glanced down at his dog and shook his head with pity.

“Settles what?” Astrid asked, humoring Toothless and rubbing his chest and belly.

“I don’t have to kick you out,” he teased.

Astrid snorted. “Good thing. Think of all the ex-hating gossip you’d miss out on.”

“Hm. So, this is all about badmouthing Eret and Heather in private, sharing secrets and giggling about all their intolerable quirks? Wonderful. I’ve always wondered what it was like to be a teenage girl,” he quipped. 

Astrid shot him a sardonic stare and he laughed, lighting up the space around him again, like he had back in the kitchen. 

She could get used to it—his unusual sense of humor, their playful exchanges, and the secondhand happiness she absorbed just by being near him. Once she got past the somewhat off-putting first impression, there was something about Hiccup that was infectious—unconventionally charismatic. 

His smile faded, replaced with a compassionate furrow of his brow and an uninvited hand on her knee that woke every nerve in her lower half. 

He said, “In all seriousness, I’m sorry for what Eret put you through—not that it’s really much consolation, one jilted lover to another.”

His voice was as soft as the contact, hovering just over the line of innocent and acceptable.

“It’s fine,’ Astrid replied, trying to make her brain focus more on the conversation than his touch, assaulting her senses despite its gentleness. “I—thank you, by the way—I figured you’re the only person I know who actually gets it.” 

Hiccup nodded and Astrid once again appreciated the understanding, though the circumstances were not ideal. She didn’t have to explain herself or show more of her wounds than was absolutely necessary. Hiccup knew they were there, but he was not interested in making her show them off, to give words to the bitterness that they shared. 

“If I had only known, I would’ve given you free coffee that day. I wouldn’t have given you a hard time,” he said.

It was as close to an apology she would likely ever get for his behavior in the shop, but Astrid found she didn’t need one.

“And here I was thinking you didn’t know how to do anything else,” she teased.

Hiccup’s eyebrow quirked up and Astrid decided it was endearing. 

Everything, from his freckles to the gap in his teeth, to his inexplicably magnetic wiry frame, hit the right notes. Maybe it was because she was desperate and delusional, swayed by rebound goggles that made any man that wasn’t Eret potentially worth a lay? 

But surely there was a wealth of options besides a sarcastic coffee barista, yet she had zeroed in on _him_. 

“I’m full of surprises, I’ll have you know,” Hiccup retorted with a mock-scowl. He started counting off with his fingers. “I’m a pretty decent mechanic.”

“Ohh,” Astrid hummed with a playful shimmy of her shoulders. “How irresistible.”

Hiccup grinned and continued, “I can make my own pizza, I’ve seen every episode of Doctor Who…”

He rambled off a few more things, but Astrid wasn’t listening. She was watching his lips instead of hearing the words they spoke. She was mesmerized by the upturn of his lips and the exuberance in his voice. The way the brightness of his smile extended to his eyes made her own recently burdened heart feel lighter. She wanted to card through his hair—a rich auburn—that sat in a sort of organized mess atop his head, fanning out over his ears.

Her gaze continued to his jawline, sharp and defined, unlike Eret’s rather broad structure. He was sporting the beginnings of facial hair, likely the result of shutting himself away from Snotlout and Tuffnut for the weekend. It only complimented him, and Astrid wondered what it might feel like to graze along her cheek. 

She suppressed a shudder. Never before had she thought so sensually about a man—not even when she had been so certain she loved Eret. 

She didn’t have any serious feelings for Hiccup, of course. She hardly knew him, and that would’ve been ridiculous.

No. 

It was an attraction in the rawest sense of the word. A need, not to feel whole or complete like a dime store romance novel might suggest, but to connect with someone; to get the most out of life. 

If she didn’t make a move, the missed opportunity would be a nagging reminder in the back of her head. It was about peace of mind and taking the bull by the horns. She didn’t want to wonder about him; about them; about what they could be in the confines of those sparsely decorated four walls. She could be bold, for no other reason than to simply _know_ and—after weeks of sulking—experience something positive.

She could kiss him.

“…I actually have a sketchbook,” Hiccup admitted. “I could show you if you’re into that sort of—“

And kiss him, she did.

His lips tightened beneath hers and his whole body stiffened, and a flash of panic crossed Astrid’s mind. 

Maybe she had misread him? Maybe she had assumed too much? 

She grasped at a suitable apology, anticipating Hiccup’s quick break away…

But he did not recoil. His mouth twitched against hers in bewilderment

Astrid leaned in, hands folded in her lap, hoping to reassure him that it wasn’t some kind of mistake; that she didn’t accidentally fall on his lips. She was asking if it was alright. A little after the fact, but she would take it no further without reciprocation.

Hiccup got the message. When his wide eyes fluttered closed, there came the warmth and gentle pressure of him kissing back. 

The weight in Astrid’s chest lifted. She couldn’t even remember the last time she and Eret had been affectionate. It felt like eons ago.

“I guess engineering sketches really do it for you, huh?” Hiccup chuckled against her lips.

“Shut up,” she retorted, snaking a hand up his long torso to tangle in his hair.

It was every bit as soft and pleasant to the touch as she hoped it would be.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Toothless, down.”

Astrid pulled back as the dog nearly sandwiched between them leapt down from the bed. He was rather indignant about it, flopping down on a deflated pillow with a dramatic groan. Hiccup rolled his eyes. Toothless stared back at him, and he scoffed; an entire nonverbal conversation playing out between them.

Yes, it was a very good thing Astrid liked dogs. Hiccup seemed particularly connected to his.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He thinks he owns the place.”

“Spoiled, huh? Whose fault is that?” Astrid smirked.

“Ahaha, yeah…” Hiccup trailed off as she inched closer, her knee pressing against his thigh. They leaned forward simultaneously, the momentum between them was dizzying. “He really is a good…mmm.”

“Dog” was muffled, lost in the slow melding of their lips.

Astrid’s fingertips mapped his jaw, tickled by stubble on the return journey to his hair. She twisted russet strands idly as things escalated. warm and tender kissing gave way to deeper, open-mouthed drinking of one another.

It was a little awkward, trying to learn new contours while avoiding the scrape of teeth. Hiccup tilted his head, and the new angle was better. Each hot, moist breath they shared stoked the fire growing in Astrid. It fueled a hunger she had never felt so earnestly. Even the simple, loose curl of his hands over her shoulders was scintillating. 

He heightened her senses and re-calibrated her body to his touch. 

She moved closer to him, capturing his top lip between her own. His grip tightened, sliding down her arms to settle at her waist. She felt the subtle twitch of his hands, wanting her closer without demanding it of her—also a departure from the rougher, grabbier sex she was used to. There was something to be said for the slow burn and exploration, enjoying the journey as much as the destination. 

She had not been aware sex was compatible with manners, never giving it much thought. But, she was glad it was.

A simple brush of tongues made her feel like her heart would explode. It was already racing beneath her ribs, fit to burst like contents under pressure. The bolder she became, the more Hiccup responded in kind. The occasional breath was all that could part them before their mouths crashed together again. Both of them were looking for release—a satisfaction that had been denied for long enough. 

They needed something more than what they had known.

Astrid grasped at Hiccup’s shirt, falling back against his bed and taking him with her. He landed on his hands, propping himself up, though their lower halves were pressed together. Whoops.

She could feel the beginning of his arousal against her thigh, through his pants. Her own desire spiked wildly and her patience waned. She bit her lip, gazing up at Hiccup with as pointed a stare as she could manage.

In spite of everything—their good rapport and trajectory of lust—he seemed taken aback by her obvious interest.

“Y-yeah?” he asked, a faltering smile conveyed his giddy disbelief. “Really? Are you sure? I-I mean, I’m flattered, but if this is just because—“

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” Astrid sighed, grasping the hem of her sweater.

“Yes, on multiple occasions. Nervous habit.”

She paused, cocking her head. “I’m making you nervous?” she replied.

With a wiggle of her eyebrows, she exposed the tiniest bit of skin of her abdomen to titillate him.

“This whole situation has caught me a little off-guard,” Hiccup confessed. “I mean…I don’t even know your name.”

Astrid felt like she had been walloped by a ton of bricks. She quickly scanned her memory and, indeed, she had never bothered to divulge that information.

How cliché of a college party hookup—and they were not even intoxicated.

Her hands shot to her mouth. “Oh my God! You’re right! It didn’t even cross my mind! I just assumed I had told you at some point.”

“You see, only one of us ever had the name badge,” Hiccup said. “It’s an honest mistake.” Astrid laughed and his soft chuckle mingled with it. He shook his head. “I’m all for unorthodoxy, but…”

“Astrid,” she replied, hands falling against the bed,exasperated with herself. “My name’s Astrid Hofferson.” 

And she felt like the world’s biggest dunce. He smiled.

“Astrid,” he repeated, testing the way it rolled off his tongue. “I’m Hiccup Haddock. Pleased to meet you.”

“Properly,” she added.

“Right, and now that we got that out of the way…”

Astrid rolled her eyes and grabbed the hem of her sweater again. She pulled it off and threw it on the floor, cursing herself for not picking more exciting underwear—the pair with the polkadots and lace. Things were not unfolding in the way she had predicted when she had left her dorm earlier in the evening. She did not think, for even a moment, she would be lying beneath Hiccup, hot and bothered, and ready to part with some of her long-held moral scruples. 

But there she was—and there _he_ was, admiring her shirtless form. He was not the least bit phased by her old, rather dull bra.

He touched her with a warm, gentle hand on the curve of her bare waist. It was a shock to her system, unfurling an almost agonizing heat beneath her skin. His thumb stroked idly just beneath her ribs. It was intimate, but restrained. Every step forward was reintroducing her body to sensations that she had been missing deep beneath the surface layers of anger and wounded pride. 

“You know, Eret’s an idiot,” Hiccup commented, running his hand over her tense abdomen. 

She relaxed instantly at his tenderness.

“I keep hoping he’ll have an epiphany and realize that,” Astrid huffed.

“Would you take him back if he did?” 

It was a loaded question. She could tell by the earnestness in eyes, and suddenly, things were more than casual “getting over it” sex. That night, in that bed, with that particular lanky coffee barista, things were pivotal. Greater forces were at work besides the carnal urges of young adults. She couldn’t give it a name yet, but she felt some kind of cosmic realignment hinging upon her answer.

“No,” she said, brief but resolute. 

Eret was a chapter in her life with a definite end, and she was finally voicing it aloud. There would be no revisiting it; she wasn’t just using Hiccup in the interim.

“Good.”

He kissed her again with the same passion, undeterred by the interlude. 

Astrid pulled at his shirt and it came off in an instant. They were a tangle of limbs, bare skin, and busy mouths. 

Hiccup was much thinner that Eret, but with definition that was uniquely his own. There was an understated power to his back and shoulders that Astrid could appreciate.

She arched up, deftly unhooking her bra with one hand. Keeping the blush from her pale cheeks, she tossed it to the floor to join the pile of unwanted clothing. 

Hiccup was accomplishedly ambidextrous, cradling the base of her head in one hand, weaving his fingers in her hair. His other hand fondled her breast, inherently knowing how she like to be touched…

Probably because that’s how Heather liked to be touched, and how Eret was caressing her at night—but Astrid smothered the thought.

Her brain was divided. There were too many pleasurable sensations all at once. Hiccup’s lips ghosting over her neck gave her goosebumps. Every breath they drew pressed their chests together, all the while skilled fingers toyed with a nipple like it was second nature. Their hearts were mirror images, beating in tandem, and the final shred of her awareness was dedicated to the obvious need in Hiccup’s pants.

His mouth latched on her neck, alternating between sucking and a graze of teeth. He was in no hurry; deliberate in effort but languid in pace. He caressed the other breast, and she filled up his palm like they were lock and key.

Everywhere their bodies met was seamless, like some grand hint that they were meant to be entwined. It was an absurd notion, but Astrid still moaned softly at sweep of a tongue along the line of her neck. 

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, and she whispered a tremulous apology. Hiccup breathed reassurances against her skin. His lips fluttered along her pulse—that was the kind of warmth that lingered, leaving her nerves charged and thrumming down to the very epicenter of desire.

“Please,” she murmured; it was a simple and quiet request. 

She wouldn’t beg him and she knew he wouldn’t ask her to.

His kisses continued to her collarbone before hesitating the on swell of her breast. Green eyes flickered up to meet hers, and her skin protested when he withdrew his lips.

“I will do whatever you want,” he told her. “I can be pretty agreeable at times.”

Heat pooled between her legs as she imagined quite a few things—mainly, other places he could put his mouth—but their encounter was not the adventurousness of established lovers. What she needed from him, in that moment, was to satisfy a persistent itch.

“Still working hard for that tip, I see,” she teased.

He laughed. “Always.”

“I’m not looking for anything extraordinary, Hiccup.” 

Not that she wasn’t already filing away excuses to see him again…

She hadn’t been physical with anyone since days before things had ended rather abruptly with Eret. Sex with Hiccup could be a drawn out experience later. At that moment, it was an obstacle to overcome, to prove to herself there was more that life had to offer—more that she was worthy of.

“What’s wrong with extraordinary?” Hiccup replied, quirking an eyebrow. “It’s kind of what I do.”

“Ha,” Astrid retorted dryly. “Just…tonight’s not the night for it, I think.”

She could almost see the cogs turning in his head, figuring her out. He wasn’t upset or annoyed that she wanted to keep things brief. His face was full of that same curiosity he often wore around her, like she was a puzzle he longed solve.

“Not tonight? As in, there could be more nights to come?” he asked, trying to keep his face placid, though he was less successful suppressing the hope in his voice.

“Isn’t that the point of good service? You garner repeat customers,” she answered.

He chuckled  and conceded, “Okay. You win. Just a second…”

He rolled off of her and stood up, rummaging around in the nightstand. Astrid took the opportunity to shed her boots and socks, scrambling up the bed as he turned back around. There was a small, foil packet in his hand and she could’ve smacked herself for the lack of forethought.

At least Hiccup considered those kind of things. 

She didn’t know where her mind was, but it was nowhere in the realm of common sense.

Hiccup gave her an almost bashful sort of grin, like amorous kissing and groping was nothing worth batting an eye over, but contraception was suddenly too risque. 

Astrid, however, was more preoccupied with the fact the condom had most likely been intended for Heather.

Once.

She wiggled out of her jeans as his sweatpants hit the floor. He, apparently, didn’t wear anything beneath his lounge clothes—a detail worth remembering.

Her eyes did a quick dart to his naked body and back, trying not to stare. She was so used to Eret that she had taken the male form for granted, but Hiccup made her want to ogle and admire like it was the first time. She wondered if there was any real etiquette about that sort of thing. It had been so long since sex had felt new. 

Her eyes settled on the ceiling as Hiccup crawled back into bed. She hooked her thumbs in her underwear, pulling it down while keep her thighs as close together as possible—not that modesty would count for much in a minute.

“Are you alright?” Hiccup asked. “We don’t have to do this.”

The fact that he had no expectations, even though they were both naked and poised, made her more certain that _yes_ , she really did have to do this—because the timing was right, and _he_ was right, and how ungrateful would she be to pass up what the Universe had so carefully arranged? 

It was more than coincidence she had agreed to accompany Ruffnut to the party, and that Hiccup lived in the very same house. What were the odds he would have come out of his room the same time Astrid had retreated indoors? Eret and Heather’s arrival has actually been quite fortuitous—the final push Hiccup and Astrid needed to connect on a deeper level than playful banter alone.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, flashing him a confident smile. It was fine, because she was neither nervous nor vulnerable to any degree Hiccup needed to know.

“Are you stalling?” she replied.

His face fell flat. “Yes,” he answered sarcastically, “because I _love_ long chats right before I get down to business. Really builds up the anticipation. It’s not like I’m urgently hard or anything.”

Astrid laughed and buried a hand in his hair, guiding their mouths together again. The kiss was sweet and comforting, their lips brushing and holding, as a shared breath lingered thickly between them. Astrid could taste him in the air with a hint of herself in the relish she left behind. 

Somewhere, a foil packet was torn, but she barely registered it over the sensual movement of thin lips over her own. 

But no kiss could  distract from the hand roaming over the curve of her thigh.

She crashed back to reality, granting him permission with a nod and anxious twist of her stomach—the kind of virginal jitters she never thought she’d feel again. 

She anticipated a quick contact, but Hiccup only settled between her legs with measured patience. His arms came around her as their kiss deepened, and she grew accustomed to the weight of him. 

She could feel everything—the ardent pulse of her need echoed by the throbbing of rigid flesh in the crease of her groin. She drew her legs up in a sort of intimate embrace, her thighs resting against his hips.

Hiccup pulled back enough to hold her gaze in tender manner that brought the color to her cheeks, more so than his deliberate rubbing against shamelessly wet folds. She imagined he might’ve told her he loved her then, had they been anywhere close to such feelings. Heather had seen that same look and heard those three meaningful words, and yet she discarded all of it without a shred of decency.

Their exes were idiots and they deserved each other.

Astrid curled up, burying her face in Hiccup’s shoulder as he sank into her. It was a few seconds that teetered on the edge of an eternity. 

It was different—new friction in new places—as every inch was an unexpected sensation; an unfamiliar length with an unfamiliar thickness. Her body was both delighted and confused, satisfied and alarmed, as years of the same old routine was replaced by a new and unpredictable pleasure. 

It was amazing. It was bliss. A tiny voice in the back of her mind dared to whisper it was _better._

Hiccup agreed, if his moan was any indication. Astrid could get used to that sound—primal, and gratified. it was good and it was _right.  
_

Her breath hitched when his hips surged forward with purposeful rhythm. She wrapped herself around him fully, using her crossed ankles to encourage deeper thrusts by pushing down against his ass. She couldn’t get enough of him and he complied, increasing his pace and vigor.

Astrid’s head fell back against the pillow with euphoria. It felt like they had done it all before. After some initial correction, they moved together effortlessly, rocking to meet each other with mutual pleasure. They sighed together, like a sensual harmony.

She grasped at his hair—the easiest thing to hold onto—and his hand found their way between them. She arched up at the first skilled pulse of his fingers against her clit. 

Everything was searing heat and perfect friction, burning away any remaining doubt that she had made a good decision. Hiccup’s skin felt as feverish as her own, gliding over her abdomen and encircling her as they clung together with more desperation.

Minutes flitted by without notice, and Astrid couldn’t care less if they carried on until daybreak. She wanted release, but she never wanted it to stop. It was sex as it was meant to be; more than just the empty mechanics of it. She had always enjoyed the act itself, but Hiccup was taking her to ecstatic new heights. 

She was arching into him and he was driving her down against the sheets; over and over, harder and deeper, while they clung to each other like vices.The room was full of rapturous moans and soft gasps. 

Astrid _squeezed_ him as his talented fingers struck up sparks to ignite already slick heat. The tension coiling below her navel finally snapped, throwing her into a blank state of wonderful, where every nerve tingled and every hair stood on end. She was no more responsible for what spilled from her lips than she was for the automatic grinding of her hips against Hiccup’s unrelenting hardness.

Maybe she said his name, and if she did, she hoped Eret had overheard. Then again, he was quickly dissolving into a vague shadow of a person and she couldn’t recall why she even cared what he thought. 

Hiccup was the only man who mattered. Her toes were curling, and he was the reason. She was enveloped by his scent and his warmth, melting beneath him as he drove through her orgasm with every thrust.

How long had it been since she had a really good climax?

Hiccup wasn’t far behind her, grasping her hips as came. It was the first possessive gesture he had displayed all night, only when overcome by a carnality he couldn’t restrain. He moaned into the bend of her neck, seeming to climb her body with each wave of release, rubbing against her overstimulated sex, drawing unabashed whimpers from her throat as delightful aftershocks coursed through her.

Hot. Damn.

The world was still spinning, but there were no fireworks, and no triumphant horn blaring out their victory. There was only the two of them, naked and panting. Residual tingles and sweat were all they had to show for their efforts, but they shared exhausted, identical smiles. A few soft kisses punctuated everything, and their fingers entwined as Hiccup collapsed beside her. 

Still nowhere close to love, they could at least exchange a meaningful gaze. They were, if nothing else, very sated.  It certainly wasn’t a fanfare, but Astrid would take it—a better afterglow than she had ever known.

The mood was only slightly dampened by the unceremonious disposal of the condom. Then, Astrid was curled up against Hiccup, absently connecting the freckles on his chest in invisible shapes with her fingers. He rubbed the small of her back, and maybe they were being too affectionate for a rebound tryst, but Astrid would worry about that in the morning.

“You know,” she murmured, shockingly loud in the wake of such comfortable silence, “I’m glad I took a chance on some pretentious coffee.”

Hiccup laughed and replied, “I’m glad your not-hangover didn’t deter you from going out again.”

“So, what happens now?” she asked, propping herself up on an elbow. 

She wasn’t expecting anything, but she at least needed to know where they stood. Would they share phone numbers? Would they settle for casual, intermittent hookups? Would they simply use a good experience as a springboard into the next relationship?

Hiccup took a long breath, blinking up at the ceiling. His lips pursed as he considered the options.

“Well, I know you don’t care much for coffee, but there’s a diner near here open twenty-four hours. They make good milkshakes, if you care to give it a shot.”

Astrid’s eyebrow shot up. “Are you…asking me on a date?”

He shrugged. “I know we’re doing things a bit backwards, but I did say I’m no stranger to unorthodoxy.”

“Milkshakes, though? In the winter?”

“I, uh…I mean, it was just an idea,” he backpedaled. “I’m not assuming that you—“

She smirked and bent over, interrupting him with a kiss and stifling that nervous habit.

“I’ll take milkshakes over terrible coffee any day.”

And so their first date was set.


	7. Bonus Chapter- By request

February saw more brutal winter weather than January and December combined. No amount of layers could protect Astrid from the stinging sleet raining down on that darkened city block. Tiny ice shards looked beautiful in the glow of the streetlight, but it was only an illusion—a false wonder to anyone unfamiliar with the misery of New England winters. What lucky ignorance to have. Berk could be a really dismal place to live two-thirds of the year. It would be lovely in mid- to late-spring, but it was a challenge to ward off frostbite until then.

Astrid tried to shrink down into her coat and knitted infinity scarf, but it was pointless. The cold was persistent. There was not a dense fabric it couldn’t penetrate. Her face was numb, and she wondered if her thick gloves could freeze to the damask cupcake box in her hands. With runny nose and watering eyes, she was a walking coed-sicle.  Fan-freaking- _tastic_. 

Spring Break was still two weeks away—woe unto her digits—but she could almost feel the burning sand of Panama City Beach…Then the frigid wind blew, and there was not a ray of Florida sunshine to be found anywhere.

She cursed herself for believing fleece-lined leggings would be enough cover.

It was stupid. _Winter_ was stupid. The warmth of her dorm had provided her with a false confidence that morning, when she had chosen her outfit. She hadn’t intended to walk so far in the elements, but the side streets had not yet been plowed from the weekend snowstorm. Cars were useless.

Maybe, if she had a snowmobile? There _was_ a rental place in town…but no. She was hoofing it like the stubborn ass she was. All the while, freezing in her sweater dress beneath her coat. It just leggings and flats on her lower extremities.

She grumbled under her breath and trudged onward, rounding the street corner. There, nestled between a dry cleaners and a florist, was a tiny and familiar coffee shop.

Truth be told, Astrid still didn’t care much for lattes or cappuccinos. The hot cocoa served in that shop was only passable, for as much as it was overpriced. Two and a half months later, and she _still_ didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Coffee was bitter. What was the point if only additives made it palatable? Yet, some people swore they needed it like it bound together the very threads of their existence.

Astrid had her tastebuds attuned to a rather sarcastic barista instead.

She felt herself smile, despite her chapped lips. It was an involuntary reaction whenever her boyfriend came to mind. That was the odd thing: she wasn’t used to simpering. It had been a while since dating had felt new and exciting. Once, just the mere concept of “boyfriend” had felt dull and burdensome.

But it was not that way with Henr—ah, _Hiccup_.

There was no better word than “easy” for what they had together. It didn’t require a whole lot of thought, and there were no headgames involved—hallelujah! Hiccup simply loved being with her, and she loved being with him. It didn’t matter whether their evening attire was dressy or sweatpants; or dinner was higher-end Italian, or Chinese take-out. 

First and foremost, they were friends. Admittedly, they had built that dynamic up _after_ they had already slept together, but they followed their own rules—and the sex…oh, God, the _sex._

A hot shudder passed through Astrid as she peered in through the door. The lights had been dimmed, the glass pastry display was empty, and Hiccup stood in the middle of the shop, sweeping the floors.

Astrid would never tell him, but he was rather adorable in his green barista apron.

She knocked and he glanced up, brow furrowed.

Perhaps he wasn’t used to surprises? His ex-girlfriend hardly seemed like the type of person to go out of her way for another person.

Point, Astrid.

His face brightened when he saw her waving enthusiastically around the “Sorry, We’re CLOSED” sign. A reciprocal giddiness unfurled in her stomach at his broad smile. Hiccup shook his head, fumbling some keys from his pocket. They jangled noisily as he approached the door.

“You’re either love-struck or completely out of your mind,” he said, somewhat muffled through the glass. The lock clicked and he pushed open the door with the tinkling of a bell. “I’m not sure which is worse for you.”

Astrid rolled his eyes and nudged past him, no longer ruffled by his sarcasm. “Does it really matter when either option works out in your favor?”

The artificial heat enveloped her like a warm blanket.

Hiccup locked the door behind her. “That wasn’t a complaint,” he said.

Astrid smirked and set the cupcake box down on the nearest table. Her arms encircled his narrow waist as he turned around. Touching him felt lovely, but his breath hitched. He never seemed to expect she’d simply _want_ to put her hands on him. 

Apparently, random acts of affection had not been common place in his previous relationship either. Two points, Astrid.

He tensed at first, then relaxed into her embrace, resting his cheek against the crown of her head. Astrid would make sure he grew used to being held and touched quickly enough. After all, he no longer jumped when she ran her fingers through his hair, just cuddling on the sofa. Small victories counted.

But when it came to sex, there was never any hesitation on his part. Astrid had quickly figured out the glue that had once held Hiccup and Heather together. It was the very same adhesive that had kept her bound to Eret for so long, against her better judgment.

“Happy birthday,” she murmured, breathing in his comforting scent; a mixture of coffee and Old Spice.

“It’s past eleven on a Saturday and I’m here, working. I’d hardly call it happy. Miserable, maybe. Downright depressing.”

Astrid pulled back and raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, but now _I’m_ here.”

“And somehow the last eight hours suddenly suck less,” he replied; he was not being facetious for once. “But don’t tell me you trudged all the way out here, in this weather, just to wish me a happy birthday.” He tucked an unruly strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Mmm, what would you say if I did?”

“There are less masochistic ways to impress me.”

Astrid shrugged. “Well, the bakery isn’t open tomorrow, and I wanted to get this to you before your birthday passed.”

“Bakery?” Hiccup asked, quirking a brow. His eyes flickered to her gift.

Astrid released him and picked up the cupcake box she had set aside. For some reason, she felt a small swell of anxiety. 

With her ex-boyfriend, she couldn’t give a rat’s ass if he approved of anything she did or anything she gave him—if she had felt compelled to give him anything at all. Hiccup, on the other hand, well…his happiness mattered. So, she bit her lip as she passed him the box.

“Uh, sorry about all the damask,” she said, wincing at the glaring hot pink.

He laughed softly. “If it this is all it takes to shatter my masculinity, then I have bigger problems to worry about.”

He opened the box with quick fingers and glanced down at the abundantly frosted cupcake, topped with a little fondant carrot. His enthusiasm faltered. The grin dissolved from his face and he cocked his head to the side.

Hesitation was seldom a good thing, in Astrid’s limited relationship experience. Her heart raced as it sank. Surely, she could not have been _so_ far off the mark? The flavor was right—she was certain of that much. Her plan may have been haphazard, but she believed in Hiccup’s good nature and good humor to appreciate the effort she had put into salvaging his birthday from the depths of unfortunate-shift hell.

“It’s carrot cake,” She muttered. “Your favorite.”

He smirked and nodded. When he glanced back up at her, he had that look in his eyes—the one that only he had ever given her. It was as if she was the only woman he had ever known; like she was the only woman he ever cared to know. Those green eyes could spread a warmth throughout her entire body, to the very tips of her toes. It had been just two short months of dating, but Astrid had known what that tender stare meant the first time she saw it—casual fun had been behind them for a while.

The re-inflation of her spirit was instantaneous.

“I _do_ remember what my favorite cake flavor is,” Hiccup teased. “But thank you for reminding me, just in case.”

“Okay,” she replied, flipping him a middle finger. He was even more amused by the gesture. She sat down on a small, round table, leaning back on her hands. “Got any coffee recommendations to go with it, oh, wise java guru?”

Hiccup chuckled. He cleared his throat and adopted a stuffy accent. It was frightening how well he could imitate the self-important…then again, he dealt with such customers on the regular. They ordered their lattes with all the snobbery of wine enthusiasts. Astrid often made mocking faces from the back of the line that only Hiccup could see. She had almost gotten him fired for making him burst into a fit of laughter as an irate woman demanded to speak to his manager.

That had been a bad day.

Hiccup said, gesturing dramatically, “A nice, spicy cake—like carrot—pairs most nicely with a rich Colombian coffee. Mild acidity, caramel notes…a hint of nuttiness on the backend.” Astrid stifled her laughter and he turned toward her, setting the box aside. His voice took on a huskier edge. “But I think there’s something else I’d rather taste instead.”

Astrid wrinkled her nose up at him. “That’s the best line you’ve got, and I came all the way here, freezing my ass off?”

“It’s been a long shift. I’m off my game.” He shrugged, advancing until he bumped into her knees. “No you didn’t, by the way.”

“Didn’t _what_?”

“Freeze your ass off,” he answered. When she raised her brows at him, he added, “I _may_ have been checking it out when you first walked in here.”

Astrid rolled her eyes, but Hiccup was not the least bit ashamed…and truth be told, she liked it whenever she caught him staring. He was the only person who had her full permission to do so. Those eyes seemed incapable of anything too perverse—or rather, his obvious attraction could not offend her.

“Checking me out underneath all these layers?” she asked, unbuttoning her coat. “I’m scandalized!”

He laughed, helping her yank the undesired garment off. She discarded it on the chair behind her and tilted her head up as he dipped down. Their lips met in a seamless kiss, and they both sighed. Hands fell on curves and edges, teetering somewhere between innocent and the margins of lascivious.

In her much younger, naïve years, Astrid had believed there should be fireworks. At the very least, there should be an effervescence of the soul like a shaken can of soda. But she had come to know better. She was wiser. Kissing Hiccup didn’t come with bursts of color or fanfare. There was no bubbling up of delirious joy. Instead, it was like a steady calm—deep-water currents that were powerful, churning the whole ocean. Perhaps it was for the best that kissing didn’t bring fireworks. They were just hot explosions that fizzled out in an instant—which was more accurate of what she had with Eret. She was ready to bet on a surer thing. Steady was better; solid was ideal; and it was all comfortable.

She caught Hiccup’s bottom lip between her own, sucking languidly. He exhaled, hot and controlled, sliding his palms over her hips to knead her thighs. Tingling begun in Astrid stomach, pulling her toward her boyfriend like they were magnetized. Kissing was just the first taste, whetting their appetites into insatiability.

Hiccup’s stubble was rough against her fingertips, and his lips were smooth. She locked her ankles around the back of his knees—not that he could honor the invitation. They would have to end things right at they got going, but Astrid wanted to pretend for a moment she could have him then.

There was some steam to be found in Berk’s harsh winter after all, as their tongues brushed. Astrid couldn’t remember what the cold felt like, just the pleasant heat of her boyfriend’s affection. Open mouths melded together, and she tugged at Hiccup’s work apron, wishing for what would have to wait for the privacy of either of their bedrooms.

She pulled back with deep regret, curbing her desire while she still could. Things often became a snowball, rolling downhill. Her heart pounded imploringly to continue, and her lips nearly stung in protest of the short distance.  Hiccup’s thumbs just continued to rub small, idle circles through her leggings. She offered him an apologetic smile, which he answered with a roguish smirk of his own. Oh, the fun they would have at home…

The cupcake caught her eye, and she was just about to suggest he shovel it down so they could hurry home and dirty up the sheets—but Hiccup pushed her knees apart with gentle fingertips. 

Astrid furrowed her brow, but she could not get the question out. Hiccup was already sliding down her body, and she felt her heart leap into her throat. She gasped as he dropped between her knees, with his face all but up her dress.

“Hiccup! What—?” She scrambled, trying to shove him back and snap her legs shut. 

The street outside was empty, but she still felt nauseating fear they had been seen.

Hiccup didn’t budge, glancing up at her with that playful gleam, undiminished. “Don’t worry. Someone would really have to be craning their necks to see anything at this angle, and if they were that desperate, I’d say it’s their own damn fault if they get an eyeful.”

Astrid sputtered, cheeks as red as they would’ve been if her parents were standing there, faces pressed against the window. Judging. Admonishing. All she could see was streetlight and sleet—no people, no prying eyes. Her pulse was still bounding, though her reason was catching up, reassuring that there were no voyeurs looking in.

Hiccup was right. They were tucked far enough into a dimly lit corner that it would take a really nosy somebody to catch them. 

She took a deep breath and her mortification ebbed.

“Is this…okay?” Hiccup asked, and her gaze fell to him.

He was crouched down, patiently waiting and making no assumptions either way. There was never any pressure with him. If she said no, he would be alright with that, saving his desire for a more private venue. 

But if she said yes…

Astrid cleared her throat and straightened up. “Is flapping your lips supposed to be foreplay?”

Hiccup blinked, taken aback, then his face split into a wide grin. “No, milady. Of course not.”

His hand ventured beneath her dress, finding the waistband of her leggings. He pulled them down, slowly planting soft kisses on every newly exposed inch of pale thigh. Astrid bit her lip. There was such a laidback sensuality about Hiccup—a sex appeal, without any effort. It was like he didn’t know, or didn’t care, and Astrid appreciated the departure from the arrogant, self-adulating swagger that had once been the standard.

Her leggings were hanging on one ankle, her other leg bare. One of her flats was on the floor, and the other was dangling from her toes. The table wobbled a little as she stabilized herself. It was all so unorthodox—but that was just her boyfriend. 

She stifled the little voice of creeping doubt. It was only the embodiment of her fear of being caught—humiliated. She was too proud for that. On the list of places she fantasized about having sex, her Hiccup’s workplace was conspicuously absent.

“I have many talents beside making a mean latte,” he said.

Astrid knew it well.

Her fist buried in his auburn hair. Desire had grown stronger than shame. The way Hiccup’s fingers skimmed along the margins of her underwear had her unconcerned with anything but the pressure of his touch, and his breath on her inner thighs. The warm moisture of his even exhales was not the only gathering heat. A wet need was pooling in Astrid’s core, obvious against the teasing strokes through the thin fabric of her panties. 

Hiccup gently bit her thigh and she whimpered. It was a delightful shock that ignited all the nerves below her waist. There came a few more nips, coupled with skilled fingers tracing the shape of her sex; Astrid was squirming. She was impatient, angling her hips toward Hiccup’s face.

He chuckled and she sighed, pursing her lips and staring at the ceiling. It was the right kind of torment: a heady rush of pleasure and frustration, perfectly balanced. Every part of her thrummed and itched for resolution…but Hiccup just kissed her through her cotton barrier, stirring up the madness of lust with his deliberate stalling.

“Babe, come on,” she muttered, ripping the ridiculous green visor from his head. It was discarded among her coat and scarf.

He snorted and smooth down his disheveled hair. “It’s my birthday. I want to savor my gift.”

“Your cupcake is the gift,” she replied, frowning.

He kissed the inside of her knee. “I like this better.” He slipped his fingers inside her underwear, barely probing her before resuming unhurried stokes.

Astrid’s lungs were tight. They felt over-inflated with anticipation. It was almost unbearable as Hiccup pulled her underwear down to bunch at her ankle. Her slender legs were on his shoulders, giving him unhindered access. Their sex would never be synonymous with shame.They were doing it—spontaneous cunnilingus in a coffee shop. Of all the absurdly erotic things…

Astrid released the shuddering breath she had been holding. The first touch of Hiccup’s lips to her folds unraveled her. It was disarming the way he could kiss her so intimately, yet with all the tender sweetness of a chaste peck on the mouth. His head tilted and he deepened the sensation; the intensity. There was more passion in the way he tasted her then; more pressure, more eagerness. His appreciative moan became scintillating vibrations against her nethers.

“Hiccup,” she sighed. Her fingers combed through his hair. The sight of all that auburn, buried between her legs, was more intoxicating with every subtle movement of his head.

Astrid tilted her head back, swallowing thickly. Everything was liquid heat—slick and overwhelming. What was her wet contribution and what was Hiccup’s, was of little consequence. She could feel every brush, every delicate tug of his lips. He took his time. He savored her. The tip of his nose occasionally brushed her clit, sending sparks throughout her body; little ecstatic starbursts. Whether he meant to do it or not didn’t really matter. Little gasps escaped her either way.

“Yeah? That good, huh?” Hiccup asked, flashing a smirk up at her.

“Don’t be an ass,” she replied.

“One man’s jackassery is another man’s wit.”

“And one man’s wit is one woman’s aggravation,” she retorted. “Humor me and put that smart mouth of yours to good use.”

Hiccup chuckled. “Whatever you say…”

He was a talker, Astrid knew that much. His tongue seldom rested, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind as it laved over her. Quick darts and slow drags—it was all wonderful. Hiccup had a talent for understanding her anatomy, if for no other reason than his own horny curiosity; Astrid gladly accepted his libidinous explorations.

His tongue roamed over her folds, swirling around her clit with dizzying finesse. Green eyes flickered up every now and then, to check how unhinged she was becoming—it fed his own pleasure and ego.

Astrid’s teeth sank into her bottom lip; she had a death grip on his hair—not that he was going anywhere. She felt as if every inch of her was flushed a brilliant hue to match her prickling cheeks. No one had—or could—devour her quite like Hiccup. Pulses against her hypersensitive knot made her thighs tremble, and she knew he would not relent. Every bit of her composure lost was further encouragement to him. She was glad for it.

His hands were partially beneath her, cupping her ass to hold her in place at his mercy. She was completely his in the bedroom, no denying it—or coffee shop, or wherever the hell the mood struck them—only as much as she could bring him to his knees. It was a mutual arrangement, and it was alright; a welcome change of pace from Astrid’s usually type-A demeanor. Every brief push of Hiccup’s tongue into her sex was followed by rapid flicks against her clit. Her breathing was ragged and her chest was heaving. When he leaned forward, he drank her fully, and she nearly came off the table with a yelp.

Her free hand slammed against the wall. A shuttering moan spilled from her lips. It could’ve been his name, but she couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in her ears. She felt him grip her tighter. It was the only time he got possessive.  Her entire body tingled with building tension, and Hiccup kept feeding that need. The way he lapped at her dripping arousal made her heart flutter. She tried to cast her impatience into the wall—something to absorb her shaking.

Hiccup’s fingers probed her entrance, taking her to new heights. All the while, he sucked and swirled his tongue over every intimate bit of her. He was indulging himself, and she was reeling from it. His fingers bent and her back arched. He knew how to break her, and it was to their mutual benefit that he did. Astrid had never fully understood sexual reciprocity and delight in the pleasure of another—until Hiccup. He ate her out like it was for his own pleasure, but the way her watched her writhe above him was transparent. She knew better. His hums, his moans, and his enthusiasm may have seemed like self-satisfaction, but there was another layer to it: he wanted to give as much as he wanted to take.

She could feel him, stroking angles with her fingertips that were otherwise impossible to reach. Her hips were undulating onto his hands, toward his face. She was completely malleable.

Then, her humor interjected. She registered that Hiccup was in his work apron; his crisp shirt and black slacks.

“Still working hard for that tip?” she panted, as he sucked her clit. Her desire coated his fingers as they worked her from the inside.

He laughed in short puffs against her folds, then glanced up. “Always. Though, I would say you’re worth far more than twenty-five cents.”

She tilted her nose up at him. “What _am_ I worth?”

“Whatever I can afford,” he answered. His next words were muffled as he pressed his face back in between her thighs. “Mmm, and then some.”

His fingers, her sweet spots; his mouth, her clit. It was all bounding headlong into a crescendo. Obscene sucking mingled with moans and blissful sighs from both of them. One long finger, then two—they pistoned into Astrid’s body in time with staccato pulses of tongue that made her toes curl.

“Hiccup! Hiccup, I—!”

Orgasm hit Astrid like a freight train, knocking her into a mass of blinding delirium. She felt ecstatic ripples, spreading out beneath her skin. Her whole body convulsed, and she scratched at the wall in the height of it. She was so very high, and she didn’t want to come back down. The waves of release had her adrift, but each one was bringing her closer to the shore—back to reality and back to Hiccup.

Who was smug. Ineffably so. Those brows were arched and he was licking his fingers around a lopsided grin. Astrid was still catching her breath.

He stood up and placed his hands on either side of her. How he could be so casual, practically defiling his workplace and his attire, was beyond Astrid. The only evidence of their sin on him was his messy hair, loosely hanging apron, and an askew name badge.

“Happy birthday to me,” he said.

Astrid giggled weakly, sagging her legs were still spread and bare, but she couldn’t be bothered. “More like _your_ happy birthday to _me_.”

Hiccup smirked and shook his head. He leaned back against another table, picking up his cupcake. There was a fork inside the box.

“So, I’m going to have to scrub that table again, With acid,” he sighed, like it was all some great inconvenience that was _not_ his doing. “Maybe I’ll take it out back to meet a hatchet.”

Astrid snorted. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours. Because you’re you. I mean, I think that would be obvious. In all our  spontaneous romps, you are the common denominator.”

She rolled her eyes and aimed a light and playful kick at his shin. “It takes two, smartass!”

Hiccup was unfazed. He took a bite of his cupcake as she reluctantly reached for her leggings and underwear. 

“Mm. I take it back,” he mused.

“Take _what_ back?”

“What I said about coffee going well with carrot cake. As it turns out, you pair perfectly with it.”

Astrid scoffed and swatted him. He flinch but snickered, then let her steal the next bite from his fork.


	8. Bonus Chapter 2- By request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like the previous chapter, this was an extra one-shot I wrote in the Pretentious Coffee universe per request on Tumblr.

“It’s disgusting,” Hiccup sighed, shutting the door behind them.

Astrid brushed the melting snow from her hair. “It really is. Christmas music everywhere—cheery carols playing over and over again, like a siren song, enticing you to burn through all your hard-earned money.”

Hiccup set Astrid’s dormitory key on the table like it was his—like he lived there. He might as well, really. Ruffnut was hardly ever home and the nice, warm décor was more Astrid’s vision than her roommate’s. It felt like _their_ place—his and Astrid’s—as much as any college dorm could.

“There’s no shame anymore,” he said, shrugging off his coat. “Midnight on Thanksgiving Day— _boom_. Santa and his elves vomit red and green everywhere. And I’m making peppermint mocha and gingerbread lattes all day long. I can’t get the smell out of my nose.”

Astrid draped her scarf over a chair. “Nightmares?”

“You have no idea. If I even just smell peppermint or gingerbread now, my eye starts twitching.”

Astrid laughed and it warmed Hiccup’s numb fingers. Christmas often left him feeling somewhat like a scrooge, but it had been a long while since he had been with someone who made the otherwise shallow holiday feel so bright. Heather had always had excuses to be elsewhere on Christmas—only available when Hiccup was working, naturally—and her idea of a thoughtful gift was a last-minute Blu-ray purchase of a movie she failed to remember he didn’t like. Hiccup had decided he hated Christmas then, holding a bargain bin copy of _Love Actually,_ while Heather gushed over the expensive new Fitbit he had bought her.

The whole thing just seemed like a waste of time, money, and effort.

But it was his first Christmas with Astrid, and already the mood was drastically different. There was no chasing her down with unreturned texts and voicemails. When he wasn’t working or in class, she was at his place or vice versa. She _enjoyed_ being with him. There was no need for extravagant or expensive dates to entertain her—something Hiccup later learned was Heather’s way of tolerating him. Astrid was content to sit on the couch and eat Chinese takeout straight from the box. She was uncomplicated. When Hiccup did have late shifts at the coffee shop, she occupied her favorite little booth with her laptop and all her textbooks. He slipped her free hot cocoa on the down-low (and she tipped him a quarter, just to be smug or flirty).

“No peppermint or gingerbread for me. I’m a simple girl,” Astrid crooned, sauntering over to him. She threw her arms around his neck. “I’d prefer hot chocolate.”

Hiccup grinned, caressing her swaying hips. “Marshmallow?”

Astrid shot him a playful wink. “Not today.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Ooh. Edgy.”

She giggled as he pried her arms from his neck. He knew his way around her place, taking her favorite mug from the cupboard. Beside it was a tin, which contained herbal tea and hot cocoa mix; he left the bag of mini-marshmallows alone.

Astrid made her way to the living room window as he worked, gazing out at the campus green. A thick blanket of snow stretched out as far as anyone could see—well past Dormitory Row, the Fine Arts building, and the bookstore. Hiccup continued to work, making her hot cocoa. She stood there, watching the swirling white powder accumulate on the street. It was building fast, but before it turned to slush, while it was still pristine and sparkling, it was beautiful—cathartic even.

“You might get snowed in for the night,” she said.

Hiccup scoffed at the warning. “I can think of worse things—like being snowed in with Snotlout and Tuffnut.”

He glanced up, and Astrid turn and smiled. With steaming cocoa in hand, he joined her by the window. His free hand rested on the small of her back, and it felt right—like it had always belonged there, like simple touches were a necessity.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the mug with both hands. Her brow knitted and she winced as soon as it touched her lips. “Ooh. Hot,” she told him sheepishly. “But it’s still good! Honestly, Hiccup, you make the best…well…drinkable anything.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Astrid. It is literally the generic cocoa mix from your tea tin. And hot water.”

“Yes, but you prepare it better than I do,” she replied with a little shimmy of her shoulders. “Must be all the _love_ you put in it.”

“More like the sincere hope I’ll get laid…” he muttered.

Astrid laughed, then eyed him through her lashes. She carefully set her mug on the coffee table before taking his hand in hers, guiding him toward the sofa. The higher his eyebrows rose, the more devious her stare became.

“I…I didn’t think that would actually work!” Hiccup said, pleasantly bewildered.

Astrid giggled and pushed him down onto the sofa, where he sprawled out gracelessly. She kicked off her shoes and _slowly_ rolled down her leggings.

“You seriously underestimate how much I like you sometimes, Mr. Haddock.”

Hiccup grinned and shrugged off his jacket. “Matched only by how much you probably underestimate how badly I want you.”

Astrid let out a dry “HA!” before settling over his lap, straddling him. “I think I have a pretty good handle on that,” she whispered.

She pulled off her sweater dress and tossed aside, clad only in her underwear—thin underwear, _lacy_ underwear. The kind of underwear selection that had to have been deliberate, not that Hiccup would ever complain.

They kissed warm, wet, and steady at first—once, twice, and a pause—then it was desperation. Hot, open-mouth collisions of lips and tongue, and busy hands. Hiccup’s shirt hit the floor, followed by Astrid’s bra.

“Mmm,” she moaned, arching her back as she ground her hips against the increasingly obvious bulge in his jeans. Her hands wound into his hair, holding his face against her breasts, where his mouth was already well occupied. “Babe, I’m going to ride you _so_ —“

The front door burst open with a resounding, “HI GUYS!”

Astrid yelped, pushing away from Hiccup, who could think of nothing else to do but cover his girlfriend’s naked breasts…with his hands. They both froze in wide-eyed horror.

Ruffnut stumbled in, eyes scrunched shut. She was groping for the edge of the kitchen counter to get her bearings.

“Don’t mind me, don’t mine me!” she chimed, feeling her way toward the refrigerator. “I can’t see a thing!”

Hiccup and Astrid said nothing. They glanced quickly at one another, before staring back at Ruffnut like two deers in the headlights. Both breathed erratically, while Ruffnut rummaged around in the fridge, muttering to herself.

“A-ha!” she exclaimed, emerging with a half-drank bottle of vodka. Her other hand was clapped over her eyes. “This is what I came for! Christmas party—you can imagine.”

“G-great,” Astrid replied feebly.

“Again, don’t mind me. I’m just gonna…” Ruffnut made her way back toward the door, which had been left ajar. It was a miracle she did not knock anything over, or sent any ceramic bowls crashing to the floor in her blind fumbling. She said, “Keep doing what you’re doing. Carry on and all that. Good for you guys, though, seriously.” She slipped out into the hall, and before she shut the door, she advised, “Astrid, I hope you didn’t forget your pill this morning. Hiccup, if she did, be sure you wrap that thing! Be safe kids! Bye!”

The door slammed, and Hiccup and Astrid were statues for another thirty seconds or so.

“What…was _that?_ ” Hiccup asked, dissolving into a fit of laughter—of both genuine humor and awkwardness.

Astrid buried her face in her hands. “Life with Ruffnut,” she answered.

He laughed harder.

“All I want for Christmas is to screw my boyfriend—in peace!”

Hiccup nodded. “No Tuffnut or Snotlout wolf-whistling outside the door…”

Astrid dropped her hands in defeat. Her shoulder slouched. “No Ruffnut barging in, giving safe sex advice…”

“I think I can make that happen—your Christmas wish, I mean.”

She stared at him flatly. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Ruffnut is gone. You’re practically naked,” he explained. With a pointed jerk of his hips, he added, “I’m still…”

Astrid glanced down at his slightly waned erection. She sighed in exasperation, but cracked a smile. Leaning in, she purred, “Mmm, Merry Christmas to me then.”

“Merry Christmas indeed,” he replied, and they kissed. “I guess I’ll just have to make you terrible instant cocoa more often.”

Astrid snorted. “With your secret ingredient: sarcastically hopeful libido?”

“Always.”


End file.
